Playdate
by ChemiToo
Summary: England brings his little brother America over to Canada's house to play, though he is less than enthusiastic about having to spend the day with France. However, when the two boys go missing, it's up to the older siblings to find them. Some language.
1. Chapter 1

America swung his arm as he held his big brother's hand, humming merrily to himself as they walked. Today, they were hiking up north to visit his brother. He forgot his name...some weirdly quiet kid that looked just like him.

"Hey, England?" America asked.

"Yes?" his brother answered as America absently swung his arm.

"What's this kid's name again?" he asked.

"His name is Canada, America," England explained, looking down to raise an eyebrow at him, "And he's your brother," he added.

"I know THAT much," America groaned, letting go of England's hand and skipping ahead of him a ways, "I just couldn't remember his name, that's all,"

"Well, try to be nicer to him this time, will you?" England cautioned from behind him, "Canada's a little…shy, so just try to play nicely with him,"

"Okaaaay," America huffed, spinning in circles as he walked, "Hey, England? I'm the older brother, right?"

England didn't answer him for a moment, pondering. America could see him putting his hand to his chin thoughtfully as he spun around, then the hills, then the woods, then England, then the hills again, over and over and over...

"Well, I don't know, actually," England answered, "You two look about the same age…perhaps you're twins? I mean, that would make sense—America, if you don't stop spinning around you're going to get sick," he warned.

"No I won't!" America insisted, spinning around even faster, "Wheeee!" he shouted gleefully as he giggled. His smile disappeared as he lost his balance and slammed into the ground.

"See?" England asked him.

"Whoa…" America breathed, raising his head and watching everything spin around. A blurred version of England came into view.

"Are you all right?" he asked, "Are you hurt?"

"Whoa, England, you've got like…three heads right now," America answered, watching as all three of his brother's facial expressions went from concerned to rather annoyed.

"Great," he said flatly, "Well, now you've gone and gotten yourself dizzy,"

"Being dizzy is awesome," America decided as he tried to stand and ended up in England's lap with an "oof!" He looked up at him, giggling. England shook his head and gently lifted him back into a sitting position beside him.

"You're hopeless," he chuckled.

They sat on the path for a few minutes until America was able to walk again. He grabbed England's hand and led him down the path, talking about this and that along the way.

"Are we there yet?" America complained after a while.

"Nearly," England answered patiently, pointing toward the top of the hill they were ascending, "Canada's house is right over the top of this hill,"

"Yaaay!" America cheered, jumping up and down happily, "And then Canika and I can play!"

"Canada," England corrected.

"Right," America said with a studious frown, "I wonder if he remembers my name?"

"We'll find out soon enough," England answered with a smile.

Before long, they had arrived at Canada's house. The boy lived in a large log cabin in the hills, surrounded by forest. America broke free from England's grasp and sprinted up the path, waving his arms enthusiastically as the figure of a young boy with blonde hair came into view. He was hunched over something on the ground, with his back toward the path England and America were on.

"Hey!" America shouted, "Hey, Canada!"

The other boy jumped as if startled, then turned around. America laughed and waved as the other boy shyly waved back. America screeched to a halt in front of his brother, out of breath.

"Hi!" he greeted enthusiastically.

"_B-bonjour_," Canada answered quietly.

"Huh?" America blurted, cocking his head in confusion.

"It means 'ello,'" another older voice explained. America looked up; France was standing in the doorway of the cabin, leaning on the frame and grinning at him.

"Oh," America said, turning back toward Canada, "You talk funny," he remarked. Canada blushed and looked down at his feet, mumbling something.

"And you're awful quiet!" America practically screamed.

"Oh, well, I-" Canada squeaked as America grabbed his hand.

"Come on, let's go play!" America cheered as he tugged on his brother's arm.

"O-okay," Canada conceded as they ran into Canada's front yard.

* * *

England watched the two boys shoot past him, America leading the other by the hand. He smiled, shaking his head. America was an impulsive child, but it was good for him to have friends, despite their…upbringing.

He looked up at the cabin as his brother stepped out of it, arms folded across his chest defensively.

"France," England greeted formally with a curt nod of his head.

"_Angleterre_," France responded frostily, "You are looking well,"

"Thanks," England said mechanically as he ascended the steps to the front porch and turned to watch the boys playing. America was evading Canada in what was clearly a one-sided game of tag. Still, England had to admit, Canada was keeping up with him rather well.

"They are quite energetic, _non_?" France observed.

"Yes, that's a good way to describe them," England noted as he leaned against the railing of the cabin, "It's good to see them getting along, though," he added.

"_Oui_," France agreed, "They may look alike, but they are very different,"

"True," England responded, tiring already of the small talk. He turned to look at France, who cocked an eyebrow at him, "Look, I don't like this anymore than you do, and-"

His brother put a hand up to stifle him, shaking his head.

"It is fine," France declared, gesturing for England to follow him inside, "A drink?" he asked.

"All right," England agreed warily as he stepped into the cabin. The structure was spacious, and very intricately decorated; France clearly had a hand in it. Every inch of the place was carved into gorgeous scenery or adorned with expensive-looking oil paintings France had probably imported.

"You like the cabin?" France asked as he crossed the polished wooden floorboards.

"It's…very nice," England admitted, "though a bit fancy for my tastes," he added.

"Ohohoho," France laughed as England reluctantly followed him further into the house, "you never did have very good taste, _mon cher_,"

"And just what is THAT supposed to mean?" England demanded as he rounded a corner after his brother. He knew this would happen. He hadn't been there five minutes and the damned frog was already starting this nonsense.

"Nothing," France said innocently as he lifted a trapdoor in the floor and began descending the ladder, "Care to see the wine cellar?"

England tsked. Leave it to France to have a wine cellar built in someone else's house.

"I suppose," he sighed as he descended the ladder after his brother. It was cool, damp, and dark.

"I can't see a bloody thing in here," he muttered uncomfortably, unwilling to step outside of the light from the trapdoor above. France chuckled from his right and lit a lantern with a loud clicking sound.

"Oh, you're afraid of the dark?" France teased as he put the piece of flint back in his coat pocket, "Don't worry, _Angleterre_, I won't let you get lost,"

"Shut up," England growled, crossing his arms and looking around. Three entire walls of the cellar glistened with neatly arranged rows of wine bottles. He snorted.

"Something wrong?" France asked, annoyance in his tone.

"I'm just wondering how the devil you find anything in here with all of these," England stated, "It's ridiculous,"

The Frenchman turned at glared at him angrily, then gradually curled his lips into a wry smile.

"Well, I can see where someone with your lack of taste would think that," he stated. England resisted the urge to punch him in the face. He was here for America's sake, after all, not his own.

"Ah!" France said as he perused one of the walls and selected a bottle of red wine, "A fine _Cabernet sauvignon_—even you should like it," he declared, clutching the bottle in one arm and blowing out the lantern. "Well? Let's head back upstairs," he suggested, motioning for England to go up the ladder first.

"No, you go ahead," England said firmly.

"You are my guest—I insist," France said, gesturing for England to go ahead of him once again. England hesitated, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Come now, _Angleterre_, you would insult me by making me a poor host?" France pouted.

"Fine," England sighed as he mounted the ladder.

"Ohohoho," France laughed creepily as England got halfway up.

"What?" England demanded flatly, turning and glaring at France.

"Nothing," France teased, "I was just admiring that _derrière_ of yours, _mon cher_,"

He continued laughing as England practically sprinted up the ladder and bounded out of the room.

* * *

**Fun with France and England! Guys, why can't you just get along? :-/**

**Angleterre- England**

**mon cher-my dear**


	2. Chapter 2

"Gotcha!" Canada declared victoriously as he pinned America to the ground.

"Oww!" America protested, shoving the other country off of him, "You got lucky," he said begrudgingly, sprawling out on the ground to catch his breath. Canada leaned over him, worried.

"You okay?" Canada asked.

"Yeah, I'm just pooped," America admitted between gasps.

"Oh…okay, then…" Canada hesitated, clearly unaware of what "pooped" meant and rather uncomfortable by it. He quickly forgot his confusion as he lay down beside his brother.

"Oh, hey!" he blurted suddenly, rolling onto his stomach, "I just remembered! I made you something!"

"Huh?" America asked, rolling over to face Canada as the northern nation took something out of his coat pocket.

"Here!" Canada squeaked, handing the gift over to his brother.

"What is it?" America asked, turning the object over in his hands.

"It's a compass," Canada answered proudly, "It tells you which direction you're going so you won't get lost,"

"Whoa, really?!" America shouted gleefully, holding the compass up and rolling onto his back, "Aw, that is so neat! Thanks!"

"I'm glad you like it," Canada said sweetly, propping his head onto his hands and watching America inspect the compass needle as it swung.

"How does it work?" America asked, intrigued.

"Well, you hold it up, and the needle points north so you know which direction you're going in," Canada explained, "At least, that's what France told me aboot it," he added with a shrug.

"Wait, so, you use this when you're on an adventure, right?" America asked, tilting his head so he was staring upside-down at his brother.

"Well, yeah, I guess so-" Canada reasoned.

"BRO!" America shouted, making Canada jump, "We should totally go on an adventure!" he declared as he leapt to his feet.

"Huh?" Canada asked, standing up, "Where are we gonna go?"

"Anywhere!" America declared, holding the compass up and aligning the needle with magnetic north, "How about….this way?" he asked, pointing to Canada's left.

"That goes to the river," Canada answered timidly.

"Great! I love rivers!" America laughed, "And we know that it's northwest of here, right?"

"W-well, I don't think-" Canada stammered.

"Right?" America repeated eagerly.

"Well…yeah, I mean, that's what the compass says-"

"Great! Then let's go!" America said, grabbing Canada by the arm and dragging him toward the northwest. Canada dug his heels in, tugging on America's grip.

"Wait, shouldn't we tell England and France where we're going?!" Canada cried. America shook his head, clapping his brother on the shoulder.

"No way!" America said, "Come on—we were born here, weren't we? Plus we have this super awesome compass you made! We'll know our way around better than either one of those guys would!"

"Well…I guess that makes sense…" Canada reasoned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Great! You ready for an adventure, bro?!" America asked excitedly.

"Yeah," Canada breathed, nodding, "Let's go!"

* * *

England frowned over his wine as France made yet another back-handed insult. He grit his teeth, trying to focus on maintaining his composure. This was for America, damn it.

"But enough about that," France said quickly before England could retort, "How are things going with America?"

"Fine," England answered gruffly, "He's growing very strong,"

"Ah," France sighed, taking a sip of his wine and swirling the glass, "It's strange, is it not? Coming back to visit them and seeing how much they have grown? It seems that every time I see Mathieu he is six inches taller. Pretty soon, they'll be full grown,"

England nodded, thinking fondly of his little brother as he smiled.

"Yes, that's precisely how I feel," he said nostalgically as France poured himself another glass of wine. He looked over at England's half-empty glass and raised an eyebrow at him.

"You do not like it? The wine?" France asked.

"No, no, it's fine," England protested politely, taking another very tiny sip. He was not about to let the other nation get him drunk. Letting his guard down, especially around _him_, would be a terrible idea with consequences England would rather not think about. France grinned at him over his own glass of wine, but didn't elaborate, thank God.

"And what of yourself?" France asked, making England throw him a nasty look, "Oh, don't be that way—I'm just asking how you are, that's all,"

"If you are referring to the…turbulence in my other colonies, _Francis_, I can assure you that everything is completely under control," England responded curtly, setting his glass down on the table in front of them and folding his arms. France sighed, setting his glass down as well.

"Arthur, I didn't mean it that way," France insisted, "I'm not blind, you know. I see that you have a lot going on-"

"That's absolutely correct, and I am handling it swimmingly," England interrupted, "No thanks to you," he added hotly.

"Oh, here we go," France groaned, rolling his eyes, "Well if you weren't so hell-bent on siding with everyone who hates me, you wouldn't have had so many wars to fund,"

"Maybe if you weren't such an arrogant bastard I wouldn't have had to go to war at all!" England shouted furiously.

"Maybe if you hadn't seized my ships, we wouldn't be having this argument right now!" France shouted.

"Your ships had no business being in MY ports!" England yelled.

"Pah, _your_ ports," France scoffed, "If you had stayed out of all of this nonsense, perhaps America would have stayed with me and you'd have one less problem," he hissed.

England glared at him defiantly, rose from his seat, and stalked toward the front door.

"Where are you going?" France demanded as he rose to follow him.

"I'm leaving," England snapped, "I'm not about to sit here and listen to any more of your shit,"

France threw some choice words at him in French, but England was too distracted to take note. He looked around the front of the cabin—the boys were nowhere in sight.

"America?!" he shouted, "Canada?!"

"Where are they?" France asked worriedly as he walked outside.

"I don't know—you check around back, I'll check the front yard," England ordered as he dashed out onto the front lawn. He called the boys' names, worry gnawing at his stomach. Nothing.

"Anything?" he asked anxiously as he joined France in running to the side of the cabin.

"No," France answered worriedly, "Where do you think they could have gone?"

England bit his lip, turning and scanning the area frantically.

"It's not like Mathieu to run off like this," France deduced, "This is probably _your _brother's fault," he accused, scowling at him.

"Oh for God's sake, Francis!" England exclaimed, "Does that matter right now?!" he shouted, on the verge of hysterics. He ran his hands through his hair worriedly, trying to think.

"_Je suis désolé_," France apologized, "That was childish of me," he admitted, joining England in worriedly scanning the area.

"Where could they have gone…?" England muttered, trying not to think about the fact that there were wolves in the area, "They couldn't have gotten far,"

"I have an idea!" France blurted suddenly, dashing back into the cabin. England hurriedly followed. His brother was dashing up the steps to what England assumed were bedrooms on the upper floor.

"What's the plan?" England asked anxiously, tripping on one of the steps and catching himself. He nearly collided with his brother as he emerged from one of the rooms holding a small bear and a sock in his arms.

"W-what the hell is that?" England blurted as France waved the bear victoriously.

"Our ticket to finding the boys!" France exclaimed gleefully as he bounded back down the stairs and outside, England in-tow. France set the bear down on the ground, then wafted the sock in front of its nose. The bear didn't seem to be that interested, yawning and lazily pawing at the ground.

"What…?" England asked hesitantly.

"This bear is Mathieu's pet," France explained hurriedly, "He can follow his scent and lead us right to them!" he elaborated with a bright smile.

"Brilliant," England breathed, a spark of hope blossoming within him, "Has he got the scent yet?" he asked anxiously.

"I…think so?" France answered hesitantly, pocketing the sock and frowning down at the creature, "Okay, bear—go find your master!" he commanded as he haphazardly waved his hands over the creature's head. The bear just looked at him, blinking blearily.

"Go on!" France encouraged, motioning for the bear to head out. No response.

"What's the matter with it?" England demanded.

"I don't know," France sighed, "Maybe it's hungry?"

At that statement, the bear perked up, standing on its hind legs and sniffing the air apprehensively.

"Eh?" France stammered.

"It's working!" England praised, "Go find Canada, then, so he can feed you!" he coaxed. He smiled as the bear began sniffing at the grass, like a hound on the hunt.

"_Bon_!" France praised, "Quickly: after him,"

* * *

**That's right, guys, freak out that the kids are gonna get hurt in the wilderness from whence they came. Aw, well, it's cute.**

**Je suis désolé - I'm sorry**

**Bon - good**


	3. Chapter 3

"Wow!" America exclaimed as they approached the banks of what he could only describe as the largest river he had ever seen, "Canada, this is AWESOME!"

"Yeah, it's pretty neat, eh?" his brother agreed, puffing out his chest proudly.

"Kind of a long walk, though," America yawned, taking a seat on a boulder, "I'm pooped,"

"…that means you're tired, right?" Canada asked as he took a seat next to him.

"Well yeah, what else would it mean?" America asked quizzically.

"Uh…never mind," Canada said, pointing out at the river, "Take a look at that! There are ships coming in!" he said excitedly.

"Whoa, they're huge!" America exclaimed, "Wonder where they're from?"

His brother stood up, squinting and putting a hand over his eyes to shield them from the light of the evening sun.

"They're British," he concluded, "Check out the flags,"

"Whoa, so those are England's, then," America deduced, standing up.

"Looks like it," Canada agreed, "Pretty neat,"

"Yeah, totally," America said, "He's got some neat stuff,"

"France does too, but I see your brother's ships more often," Canada said, frowning at him thoughtfully, "What's it like living with him, anyway?"

America shrugged, watching the ships' sails billow in the strong wind.

"He's nice," he reasoned, "But sometimes he can be kind of a grump,"

Canada laughed, stretching his arms and tilting his face into the breeze.

"Yeah, France is kind of like that, too," he said with a shrug, "But he's okay, I guess,"

"Yeah," America agreed half-heartedly. The two of them fell into silence as they watched the ships pass, content to just sit beside one another for a time.

"Hey, you wanna go swimming?" Canada suggested.

"Sure!" America agreed, joining his brother in dashing over to the edge of the cliff they were perched on, "How do we get down?"

"I know the way—come on!" Canada offered, motioning for America to follow.

* * *

"Do you think he actually has the scent?" England asked uncertainly as Canada's pet led them through yet another thick bramble patch. England grunted as his sleeve became entangled, ripping it free with the sickening tearing of fabric. So much for his favorite coat.

"Definitely," France reassured him, "We'll find them in no time,"

"This is farther out than I'd expected," England added, frowning.

"I suspect they're headed for the St. Lawrence, if they went out this way," France deduced. England's stomach plummeted.

"America can't swim," he blurted worriedly. God, if anything happened to him—

"We'll get there in time, Arthur," France said sternly, "We're nearly there—can't you hear the water?"

England strained his ear, and sure enough, the sound of rushing water met his ears. Very powerful, swiftly rushing water. He prayed they made it in time.

* * *

"Boy, it's a long way down!" America observed as he followed Canada along the craggy rocks toward the water.

"Yeah, it's kind of a long walk," Canada said as he deftly climbed across the stones, "But there's a place up ahead where we can take a break,"

"Okay!" America called as he followed him. After a while, they found themselves on a ledge above the river and dangled their legs over it.

"Wow, that's a lot of water," America stated, watching the churning rapids below them.

"Yeah, France says all of this water goes out into the ocean," Canada said astutely.

"Huh," America said, leaning back on his elbows and looking into the evening sky, "It's pretty out here, bro. Thanks for showing me,"

"S-sure!" Canada squeaked, "It's nice to spend time with somebody besides France,"

"Yeah, I'd imagine so," America laughed.

He looked up as a very familiar voice caught his ears.

"AMERICA! CANADA!"

And then a not-so-familiar French one.

"AMERICA! CANADA! MATHIEU!"

"Uh-oh," Canada mumbled, "I think we're in trouble,"

America groaned, lying back onto the ledge in defeat.

"Yeah…" he mumbled, "Guess we'd better get back up there, huh?"

His brother nodded as he got to his feet.

The bear practically knocked Canada off the cliff in his haste.

"Oh! Hey, you!" Canada greeted happily as the bear began trying to tear open the pocket of his jacket, "Slow down: here," he said as he retrieved a biscuit from his pocket and handed it to the bear. The creature began happily devouring the treat as he plopped onto the ground.

"MATHIEU!" France bellowed from the ledge above him. Canada squeaked, jumping.

"I-I'm sorry-"

"Get up here: now," his older brother commanded in French. Canada sighed, slumping his shoulders and dragging his feet.

"ALFRED: COME HERE," England demanded from where he stood next to a very angry France, arms folded across his chest.

"Ngh," America gulped as he flinched. He hadn't heard England yell like that in a long time, and when he had, it wasn't good. And he had used his person name…that definitely wasn't a good sign.

"Coming…" he said glumly as he followed his brother onto the cliff overlooking the river.

The older nations looked positively furious. France was tapping his foot on the ground impatiently, while England was glaring at America from beneath his furrowed eyebrows, arms crossed.

"What the devil were you two thinking?" England demanded, "We've been searching everywhere for you!"

"W-we're sor-!" America blurted.

"Sorry?" England repeated, stalking over to him and shaking his shoulder roughly, "Do you know how worried we've been? You two could have been KILLED," he elaborated. America looked at the ground in shame, his eyes starting to well up.

"_Oui_, we were beside ourselves with worry!" France interjected as he approached Canada, "What possessed you to wander all the way out here?" he demanded, "Mathieu: look at me," he commanded. Hesitantly, Canada peered up at him.

"W-we were just exploring," he blurted.

"Exploring?" France repeated with a frown, "All the way out here? You KNOW I've told you not to go near the river! It's dangerous!"

Canada averted his eyes, tears welling up in them.

"Hold on, it was my fault!" America piped up, causing France and England to look at him angrily. He gulped and stole an anxious look at Canada, who grimaced.

"Go on," England hissed through gritted teeth.

"_I _said we should go on an adventure," he blurted, looking down at his feet, "not him. I'm sorry, Bro," he whispered, stealing another look at Canada.

"No, I'm the one who should have said no," Canada insisted, shaking his head and whispering as if the other two wouldn't hear them.

"But you _did _say no," America pointed out.

"Yeah, but I should have said 'no' louder," Canada squeaked.

"AHEM," France interjected, causing both younger nations to jump and look at him.

"Look, it doesn't matter who did what: the point is that the two of you are not supposed to go wandering off on your own. You both know that. And yet, you disobeyed us. Both of you," England lectured, green eyes sharp and unforgiving.

"We feared that the two of you could have drowned," France added.

"W-we didn't go in," Canada piped up.

"But you were about to, were you not?" France deduced, cocking an eyebrow at him. Canada hung his head, whispering a barely audible "yes."

"You can't SWIM, Alfred," England pointed out, "You could have DIED,"

America was stunned into silence at that remark as a stray tear rolled down his face.

"What if you two couldn't have found your way home?" England continued, "If you had gotten lost, God knows what would have happened to you!"

"B-but we've got a compass," America pointed out. He immediately wished he hadn't, as both older nations went silent and looked at one another. Crap.

"_Sacre bleu_," France sighed, clapping a hand to his forehead, "Mathieu, that wasn't why I taught you how to make one, you know, so you could disobey me and hurt yourself,"

"I-I know," Canada whispered, "I'm sorry,"

There were a few more minutes of very tense silence. Finally, England sighed.

"All right, boys," he said, kneeling down so he was at eye-level with his little brother and Canada, "I trust the two of you understand the severity of what you've done? Of how you could have gotten hurt, and that is the reason why we're cross with you?"

Two blonde heads bobbed in understanding.

"Promise us you won't do this again," France stated, kneeling to face Canada.

"We promise," the two boys said quietly, rubbing the tears from their faces.

"All right," England said, reaching out and enveloping both of them in a hug, "We're just glad that you're both safe, right, France?" he asked, standing and allowing France to hug the two boys.

"_Oui_," France responded, kissing both boys on each cheek before rising. He looked out at the evening sun, turning orange over the mighty river.

"Well? Think we have time to make it back before dark?" England asked.

"We should make it back a little after dark, but it should be all right, if we hurry," France reasoned, kneeling and gesturing for Canada to get on his back, "Hop on, Mathieu," he said.

"You too, Alfred," England said, mirroring his brother's motion and allowing America to climb onto his back. "Ready?"

"Let's go," France said.

* * *

By the time they had arrived back at Canada's cabin, it was well past dark. Thankfully, England noted, they hadn't run into any hostile woodland creatures along the way, though he had heard a coyote barking in the distance. He followed France, who was carrying a sleeping Canada, through the doorway and up the steps. Canada stirred as France removed his shoes and jacket, but quickly drifted back to sleep as France said something soothing in his native tongue. France then gently tucked him under the covers of his bed. England dislodged America's arms from around his neck and plucked off his shoes and coat. The boy was out cold, and he was a heavy sleeper. England set him in bed next to his brother and pulled the covers over the two of them. He and France grinned tiredly at each other before quietly leaving the room and closing the door behind them.

"Whew," England sighed as he plunked down on the sofa in the living room. France did likewise next to him, retrieving his abandoned glass of wine and taking a swig. England took a drink of his wine as well, feeling the warmth of the alcohol seep through him. He shivered; it was chilly once the sun went down.

"Those two are a lot to handle," France sighed tiredly as he leaned back on the couch.

"Yeah, can't take your eyes off them for an instant," England yawned in agreement, leaning back onto the back of the couch too, "Good thing we got there when we did,"

"Mmm," France agreed with a nod, "That could have been terrible,"

England sighed, downing the remainder of his wine and setting the glass on the table. He leaned backwards again, resting his head against the back of the couch.

"I don't want to think about it," he mumbled as he closed his eyes, "Thanks for helping find them, by the way," he added, "Couldn't have done it without that bear,"

France chuckled.

"_Oui_, that stupid bear," France laughed, "And here I was telling Mathieu not even two days ago that it had no place being in the house. He threw a tantrum over it, so I gave up,"

"Good thing he disagreed," England said with a grin.

"And, about earlier-" France started.

"Forget it," England yawned, "it's done,"

There was silence for a while, replaced with soft snoring as England fell asleep.

* * *

America awoke the next morning, not entirely sure of where he was. Last thing he remembered, he was in the woods with England and France and…

He looked to his right as something stirred. His brother was next to him, half-asleep.

"Hmm…?" Canada mumbled, cracking open a violet-colored eye and blinking up at America.

"Hi," America said, rubbing his eyes, "Where are we?" he asked, sitting up.

"We're in my room," Canada answered sleepily as he sat up too.

"Whoa, did we just have a sleepover?" America asked excitedly.

"I…think so," Canada agreed as a smile crept across his face.

"Awesome!" America exclaimed gleefully as he leapt out of bed. A snarling sound caught his attention; he had dislodged Canada's bear thing at the foot of the bed in his haste.

"Sorry," he mumbled; the bear glared at him before curling up and going back to sleep. Canada crept out of bed, scratching his head and stretching.

"So, what do we do now?" Canada asked excitedly, "I've never had a sleepover before,"

"Yeah, me either—well, unless you count England," America said, frowning, "Let's go downstairs and see if France and England will make us breakfast!"

"Okay!" Canada chimed happily as he followed his brother into the hallway. They bounded down the steps and skipped the past few stairs, landing with thuds onto the floor below.

"Where are they?" America asked, "They gotta be around here somewhere,"

"Maybe in the living room?" Canada suggested, "Follow me,"

They jogged into the living room, ready to demand pancakes, but stopped at what they saw. England and France were both asleep on the couch, barbs and twigs strewn in their hair and clothes from the trek the night before. They hadn't even taken off their boots. England's head rested on France's shoulder, and France's chin rested on the top of England's head.

"Huh?" America blurted.

"Weird," Canada observed, "I thought they didn't like each other,"

"Me too," America mused, "Well…now what do we do?"

"I have toys in my room," Canada suggested, wiggling his eyebrows, "Wanna check them out?"

"Yeah!" America cheered, following his brother up the steps toward his bedroom.

* * *

France groggily opened his eyes, raising his head up and yawning. What a night.

He went to get up, but was stopped by a weight on his shoulder and arm. He looked down; England was leaning on him, fast asleep.

"_Angleterre_?" he whispered, but England didn't respond. France leaned forward, stealing a look at England's face. God, he was adorable when he was asleep. He mumbled something incoherent as France moved, then nuzzled his face back into France's shoulder. Strangely, he didn't wake. France sighed, leaning back onto the couch in defeat. He listened as the sound of two pairs of little feet pranced around upstairs.

Well, France reasoned with a yawn, there was little mischief the two of them could get into inside of the house. He supposed he could afford England a little more time to rest.

* * *

**Overprotective bros for the win. Thanks for taking the time to read. :)**


End file.
